


Three Mugs

by cowpuppy



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Creampuff Week, F/F, Hot Chocolate and Gingerbread
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3089111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowpuppy/pseuds/cowpuppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Carmilla decides to make hot cocoa for her family, she stirs up some painful emotions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Mugs

She watches him as his heels bounce against the rungs of the stool. A reprimand dances on her tongue, but when he looks up from his reading and smiles, she swallows it instead. His mother’s eyes twinkle in the steady kitchen light.

"How are you, Carm?" he asks, and her fingernails drum on the granite countertop. He's always called her Carm. She remembers the argument she'd had with his mother.

_"He should call you Mom, too," Laura had said, eyes flashing even as the infant in her arms grabbed a handful of hair and shoved it in his mouth. "You're as much his mother as I am."_

_"Maybe so," said Carmilla. She ran her hand over the wisps of hair on his head. "But when he gets older and I stay the same age? Laura, when he graduates college I'll look more like his girlfriend than his mother."_

He hasn't graduated, not yet. And he still looks so young to her. It's hard to accept that people might mistake them for siblings or friends or, worse, lovers.

That happened once. Both of them would rather forget it.

Laura never let them.

"Carm?"

"Hm?"

"I asked how you're doing. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, sunbeam," she says. "I was just remembering when you were little."

He turns bright red. So much like his mother. Her heart twists. She presses her advantage. "How are you? How's school?"

"School's fine." His eyes have dropped to his reading.

"Just fine? Well, how about friends? Making any?"

He looks up again, brows furrowed. _So_ much like his mother. "Really?"

Her eyes roll almost involuntarily. "I _know_. But you know someone has to ask and I'm the only one here."

Eyes on his reading again. Then back to her. "Yeah, I'm making friends."

"Special friends?" Her smile tickles her cheeks as chagrin spreads through his features.

"Carm!"

"What? You're a handsome guy, there must be people lining up for you." As he splutters, she grabs the kettle and fills it, puts it on the burner. She leans against the counter and waits while he fidgets.

"No 'special friends'," he says, with air quotes and an eye roll. "I'm too busy for that." He waves at the textbooks spread across the counter and grimaces.

She scoffs. "Kid, you're in college. You have to live a little."

Eyes narrowed, he says, "Are you trying to tell me I need to go to more parties?"

"Oh, God, no." Her hands shuffle through one of the cabinets until she finds the box of cocoa. "But I am suggesting you relax a little. Life's short."

He chuckles. "Compared to yours, maybe."

The cocoa plops into the mugs with a _poof_. She knows exactly how many spoonfuls to add. The kettle whistles and she fills the mugs.

"Mom?"

She leaves half an inch at the top and begins to stir.

"Mom."

She reaches into the cupboard again and finds the cookies that LaFontaine dropped off earlier in the week.

_"I don't eat cookies," she'd said._

_LaFontaine's brows pinched. "Right. For the kid, then."_

_Carmilla looked down at the box in her hands. "He does like gingerbread."_

_"There you go. Happy Holidays, Carmilla," they said, and pulled the vampire in for a quick hug, backing away before they got murdered._

_Clearing her throat, Carmilla took a step back into the house. "Thanks," she said. "And tell the other ginger twin thanks, because I know she made these."_

_LaFontaine shrugged and nodded. They turned to leave, but Carmilla grabbed their shoulder. "Wait." She darted into the house, returning moments later with two envelopes. "Here. For your actual ginger twins."_

_They accepted the cards, fingers trailing over the handwriting on the front. "Thank you. Did you--"_

_"Someone has to keep up with tradition." Carmilla paused. "Happy Holidays, LaFontaine."_

_They smiled._

"Mom!"

Carmilla's hand jerks and the cookies fall on the countertop. "What?"

He stands at her side, hand on her wrist. Color drains from his face, and she follows his eyes to the three mugs on the counter.

Three mugs.

She backs away from the counter as though it's caught fire, arms wrapped about herself. "God, I'm sorry," she says, backing into him. His arm loops over her shoulders, fingers squeezing her arm.

"Mom..."

She starts to cry and he bundles her against him. How did he get so big? She sobs into his shoulder and when she feels her shirt getting damp she knows he's crying, too. Her tears begin to dry and she rubs his back like she did when he was small, when he was teething and miserable, when someone teased him for having two moms and he shouted the kid down at school and then broke down in her arms as soon as he got home.

And now he towers over her, as big as his mother always seemed.

When he pulls back and wipes his nose, she takes a long look at him. Her hands cup his cheeks. "You called me Mom," she says.

He blinks. His eyes are bloodshot and tears have carved tracks down his face, but in that moment he just looks bewildered.

"You are my mom," he says.

"You always call me Carm."

He sniffs and wipes his nose again, and she really has to bite her tongue to stop herself barking to go get a damn tissue and to _please wash his hands_.

"I thought that was what you wanted." He shrugs. "And I understand it. But after Mom died, I just figured... well, I already lost one of my mothers. I don't want to lie about the other one anymore."

She hugs him again, rising on her toes to kiss his cheek. "I love you," she says. "I've loved you since the day you were born. And you'll always be my son."

"I love you too, Mom." He pulls away and smiles. "Now, will you help me eat these cookies?"

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I decided to kick off Creampuff Week with Dead Laura. I saw a lot of people on tumblr thinking about Carmilla and Laura and the fact that Carmilla doesn't age. That Laura would, eventually, die. And I thought, well, what if Carmilla had someone who shared her grief? So I gave them a child.
> 
> Let me know what you think!


End file.
